


The long winding road to our happiness

by Anonymous



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adventure, Amnesia, Dimension Travel, Fantasy, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: 30 years ago, the world was about to be ended by large army of malicious supernatunal creatures but a group of nine nations sacrificed their own lives to stop them.America has always have the feeling that there is someone missing from his life. Why does the smell of red roses and the herbal scent of tea always remind him of a home he couldn't remember?As it turns out, he isn't the only one who feels the same. Almost every nation feels a hollow aching feeling in their soul that speaks of loss. But who did they lose?The four British Isles brothers may have the answer to their questions and that answer may bring them to an adventure like they'd never had before.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Greece/Japan (Hetalia)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 83
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first Hetalia fanfic so I'm a bit nervous on posting this but I hope you will all enjoy this story!
> 
> English is not my first language and I have no beta so excuse me for any grammar errors in this fanfic.

Their people are dying, their lands are being poisoned, their oceans are turning into several deathly shades of black and their animals are being driven into extinction.

Those creatures came unexpected, in large swarms, eating and killing everything that came into their paths. Nobody was—is—ready to fight them. They are all fecorious, monstrous and indestructable that not even the miracle of science could bear any solution on how to stop and later, exterminate them.

Despite the hundreds of wars they'd survived, the plagues, the famines and draughts, they've never felt so helpless before. 

For the very first time ever, they are experiencing a war they can't ever hope to win.

Until one day.

Xxxx

They find him in the basement of his very old mansion in York, the book of forbidden magic in left hand and a dark gemstone the size of a infant's fist on the right one. He is wearing a forest-green cloak that obscure his face. He is standing in the middle of a drawn pentagram inside a circle and with weird numerous scribblings decorating the already ominious symbol. 

The basemement is dark; several candles lit with green fires the only source of illumination in the room, casting an eerie glow aroind the room. The man is murmuring some unintelligible chant under his breath, the breathy sound sending shivers down their spines. In another time, another day, another, one of them would crack a joke about how the room looks similar to the settings of several cheap Hollywood horror movies. Right now, however, all of them feel so nervous, so scared and so high-strung that one suspicious small sound coud send the only South-Eastern nation in the place into tears.

"I'm scared," she moans and hugs herself, tremors racking her petite frame under her blue thick coat. 

Worldlessly, the only other Asian representatively took her left hand, which feels cold, and wraps it in his. "I know, Dolores, but you know we must do this. In order to protect our people...to protect everyone..." he intoned, stoically. Behind his poker face, however, lies a deep trepidation about their dubious mission. Will they succeed and drive out the monsters that are currently running rampant in their lands, or will they just die in vain? But he decides to hide his misgiving, which will accomplish nothing in their current situation.

Dolores bit her lip, her dark eyes showing her doubt, but she nods and her trembling eases up a little. Before the monsters has attacked her country and killed the 24% of her population, she was always cheerful and smiling, the ever optimistic and happy woman who never gave up, despite all the odds stacked up against her. 

She used to be always full of life and youthful vitality, but now she looks much older and her face worn. 

He understands; his own soul has a large aching gap on it, too, where the majority of his population used to occupy. Used to.

He just misses her beautiful smiles.

"Thank you, Leon," she said, sincerely. She tries to smile, but the tiny smile that graces her pinks lips is more like a grimace. 

She turns to her right, where the petite blond and green-eyed girl, the only other female representative in the room, stands with her head bowed down and her gloved hands clutching the pink fabric of her skirt. "Erika, take my other hand. I'm here," she coaxed, softly. 

Erika lifts her small head, and Dolores' heart clenches at the sight of the girl's crystal tears. "I want to see big brother," she whispers. " But I can't. I know that I have to be strong to protect him but I am scared. What do I do, Miss Dolores?" 

Dolores' tears well up in sympathy but she wills them away. "I know, I'm scared too, but we need to be strong right now. This is the only way for our people...for the _others_ to survive. Just hold my hand, okay? I'll be with you to the end."

Erika doesn't answer. She bows her head again but she clings to Dolores' arm, seeking comfort that she isn't sure she can give.

"Is that bastard over there finish yet?" drawled a bored-looking, brown-haird and dark-skinned young man. He has his hands in his pockets and his body is leaning on the wall next to the door, earning a nasty glare from the tall Nordic country standing the closest to him. 

Henrique ignores it. "If I had known that it will take him this long to set up the spell then I would have brought booze. We're all going to die anyway so why not have a little bit of fun before that?" he explained, flashing them a charming smile.

The Iberian nation is promptly ignored by everyone.

Finally, the man in the green cloak finishes the preparation. He turns to all of them and worldlessly, beckons them with the hand holding the forbidden book to enter the circle. 

Suddenly, Leon feels like his nerves are about to snap with the tension he has been feeling since he entered the room with the others. He can feel the panic rising inside his chest and the bile in his throat. He is afraid, he realizes. Afraid to die and to leave behind his people and everyone he loves.

But he needs to do this. Hasn't he already agreed to sacrifice himself so the others could survive after thinking about the matter for a three weeks? His knees shaking, he begin to walk towards the circle and _him,_ the person whom he trusts with all his heart. Didn't they spend three weeks preparing for this day, knowing full well that there's no going back at all?

One by one, the eight of them enters the circle, all shaking yet also determined. Following their de facto's leader's intruction, they stand in a circular position, holding each other's hands. They close their eyes and bows their heads. A hush fall upon them, only to be broken by the harsh whispers of their leader, in the language that he finally recognizes as the Old Latin. 

As if on command, the pentagram inside the circle glows, warm and purple. The chanting becomes louder, stronger, until the ominous purple light becomes brighter, engulping the nine bodies in the circle.

He doesn't know what made him to do it, he can't even explain why. But as the purple light is about to claim him, he lifts up his head and meets _his_ eyes, emerald pools full of sorrow, regrets and deep-bone sadness.

Xxxx

That night, the whole world becomes witness to the sudden and unexpected extermination of the monsters that have been plaguing them for months; these monsters all die screeching and howling in pain as they all combust and shattered right in front of the people's eyes. 

And at the same moment, nine nations disappear from this earth, never to be seen ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dolores is an OC but she's representing a real country.
> 
> Henrique is a canon and supporting character in Hetalia. I think that I've already given away which country he is.
> 
> Please tell me guys what you think of this chapter and if you like it on the comments!


	2. Who are you?

_"—land! —land, you're back!" a blonde toddler wearing a pink nightgown with a frilly red ribbon exclaimed, jumping from his chair and running towards the door where his —? was standing and carrying a big basket of strawberries._

_—land laughed, the sound like a music to the toddler. "Of course, I'm back! I promise you I'll be back before you miss me right, my little bun?" the young man at the door said, fondly. He put the basket down before picking the litte boy and spun around, making the toddler giggled._

_Grinning mischievously, —land did it again and again until the toddler in his arms started to feel dizzy and asked him to stop with a resounding kiss on his left cheek. "—land, you big meanie, stop!" he pouted, threateningly, before kissing his —?'s on the cheek._

_"Mercy! Mercy! I'll stop now so please don't maul the old me!" —land cried out, laughing with tears in his emerald eyes. He stopped spinning and walked towards the nearest, his body swaying a little and put the cutely pouting toddler down on it. As a show of his displeasure, the little boy puffed his squeezable cheeks and frowned in the way the adults would whenever they would disagree on stupid things that Alfred could never hope to understand at his age._

_Smiling fondly, his —? knelt before him and took his tiny hand with his much larger ones. The adult's hands were as warm as his gaze. "Well, I'm here now, Alfred, what do you want us to do? Do you want to us to take a picnic outside? "_

_Upon hearing the word 'picnic' Alfred's face brightened up. He nodded, vigorously. " I want to! I want to take a picnic with you, —land!"_

_"Then it's settled! Oh, I bought three boxes of tea leaves with me. You love tea, don't you?"_

_"I do! I love tea! And scones! —land's scones!"_

_The elder blushed. Then his eyes became soft with deep fondness._

Wait—

_That afternoon the two of them sat under an oak tree, eating scones, sandwiches and the fresh strawberries the elder brought with him and drinking tea._

Who—

_Under the blue sky; the gentle breeze caressing their cheeks, the elder begun talking about his travels to the younger one, who listened with rapt attention while muching a scorched scone on his tiny hands._

Wait—

_The elder laughed. He reached for Alfred's head and begun ruffling his ash-blond hair, fondly._

Who are you?

Xxxxx

"I know, I know, brother, I'll be there on time. Jeez, you arrived late in a meeting once and now—okay, okay, stop yelling at me. Don't worry, I'm serious. Love ya too, bro." 

He checks his briefcase once more to ses if he didn't forget all the necessary papers that he will be bringing for the World Conference today and seeing that he already pit everything inside, shut the briefcase with a _click_ and locks it.

Shaking his head, the ash-blond and bespectabled nation called the United States of America, Alfred F. Jones to his contemporaries, pushes the _end call_ button of his mobile with a sigh. For some reason his brother Canada has become really bossy these last few weeks. Like a sterrn mother to her unruly child, Matther will nag, call out or even check on him in his home from time to time just to see if he has been eating right. Last week the other nation even visited him without calling him first. 

Alfred can only shake his head. Jeez , his brotherly is really a mother hen, just like that guy in his dreams—

A very painful, head-splitting sensation suddenly explodes on his temple and he almost blacks out. "Shit," he mutters, wincing. 

_A man of average height; a small smile full of love. One moment singing softly to him, on another reading him a book. The scent of red roses linger on the air and Alfred felt like his chest was about to burst with a very pleasant emotion—_

The pain in his head becomes stronger and he sees dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. With a cry he feels himself falling and falling until he knows nothing more.

Xxxx

Matthew is worried. 

He has been calling his brother for exactly 30 minutes but Alfred is still yet to answer his calls. Before him, all the assembled nations from around the world (except Italy, who is making a list of the ingredients of the pastas he has collected and no doubt going to cook for his and Germany's engagement party ) are watching him, impatience written clearly on their diversed features. 

Alfred is already one hour late to the World Conference. And he is supposed to be their host this time. Most of them are even starting to believe that he won't show up at all.

"I'm sorry, but he is still not anwersing my calls," he apologizes to the nations present, shooting all of them a helpless look. 

The reactions he get is varied: China snorts, expression disdainful; Russia's smile is razor-sharp, a small storm brimming behind his child-like violet eyes; Germany looks irritated; Japan remains poker-faced though he thinks that he could glimpse some glimmer of concern there; for once Greece looks wide—awake and has a hand on Japan's elbow; Switzerland looks outright murderous and France looks heavily disappointed. The Nordics aren't showing anything, all four of them attached together at the hips in the farthest part of the table. The others Asians in the room are silent, eyes darting back and forth to the superpowers and Spain has already joined Italy in writing the list, the two seemingly unaware at the heavy tension that rose in the room after his apology. 

"A pity," a deeply accented voice rose through the suffocating silence. "And I came here hoping that I could talk to him about something," Scotland drawls lazily, taking a long drag from his tobacco pipe before blowing a large smoke to the air before him. Sitting next to him, Ireland is eyeing him and his pipe with disgust.

"I'm really sorry, Alistair," he apologizes again, feeling contrite," I reminded him two hours ago not to be late for this meeting and he promised me that he won't. I don't know what came to his mind at all that he decided to be late."

Scotland sighs and closes his eyes. That seems to be what is Ireland was waiting for because he grabs the pipe from his brother's gloved hand and throws it to the nearest trashcan in the room. Scotland regards his thieving brother with half-lidded eyes but Ireland just glares at him, daring him to say a word. 

Scotland isn't cowed. "That was my fourteeth pipe that you have thrown away this month, _Éire_ ," he says, mildly. 

Ireland rolls his eyes. "And there will be fifteenth if you insist on bringing that shit near me, _Alba_ ," he replies, vehemently. 

"Ginger health freak arseshole."

"Kilt-wearing block head."

The two brothers glare at each other for what seems to be a long moment before France approaches them and stands behind their seats, putting a hand on their shoulders. "Now, now, calm down, you two," he coaxes, like a kindergarten teacher trying to put an end to a fight between his students. His lips twitches in amusement though.

Seating on the seat on Scotland's other side and literally forgotten by his older brothers, Northern Ireland sighs, expression long-suffering. 

"Ve~ ,what if something bad happened to America?" Italy says, looking up frok his list. His amber eyes dark and serious. 

Everyone in the room turns to looks at him. 

Finding himself suddenly under the scrunity of a hundred eyes, Italy squirms and fidgets on his seat. "Ve~ America has never been late like this in our meeting. He was always on time and the last time he was late it was only 30 minutes. Something must have gone wrong in his house, ve~" he explains, worriedly. 

"Y—you're right, Feliciano. America has never been like this. He would have called one of us or just Canada if he's not going to show up," Germany says, rubbing his head. Matthew couldn't help but notice the dark bags under his bright blue eyes. 

Matthew feels a pit in his stomach. What if Italy is right? What if something bad did really happen to his brother? What should he do?

Russia, who has just been quietly watching everyone a few minutes ago, smiles sinisterly. "Then why do we put this meeting on hold and visit America in his house, da?" he suggests, beaming. The Baltic nations sitting near him all shudder; Estonia slowly leans back.

Several nations, including Canada, are on board on the idea. 

Meanwhile, unnoticed by everyone, Norway's eyes narrow perceptively.

Xxxx

America feels like his body is underwater, his movement is sluggish. He can smell the strong smell of disinfectant and clean sheets. He groans.

"Oh, good, you're awake. You don't how nervous you made me and the others feel when we saw you passed out on the floor of your house. So we brought you here in this hospital," said someone whose voice he can't recognize through the foggy haze of his mind. The person's voice is hoarse, full of emotion. 

Gingerly, he tries to open his eyes and is met with the relieved face of the French nation he knows so well. 

"You really made us worried for you, _mon chéri,_ especially poor Matthiue. He still hasn't slept since we found you. He's outside with little _Italie_ and _Allemagne_ waiting for you to wake up. But enough of that. Is there anything that you want, my boy?"

"Water," he croaks, his mind still not registering what the older nation was telling him. 

France hands him the glass of water standing on the table by his bed side and stays silent as he gulps all the contents in one go. 

"Thanks," he says. He feels so tired.

"You're welcome, my boy. So mind telling me why we found you passed out in the middle of your living room?" France asks, blue eyes searching the younger nation's face.

He doesn't know why, but the gentleness of the older man's tone makes his tears well up. "I'm not really sure but have you ever felt like there is someone missing in your but no matter how much you try to remember them, you couldn't and your head would hurt so bad?"

France's handsome face becomes haunted. He smiles, sadly. "I do."

_"Hey, come back here!"_

_Huffing, France continued to chase after the smaller and bedraggled nation in the middle of the lively forest. This is the third time the young French nation had tried to approach the other but once again, he had been rejected. But why? France just wanted to be his big brother!_

_"Go away!" —? cried out, looking back just to glare at him. Oh, he's so dirty! And look at those eyebrows! Like big caterpillars making a home on his face! Not cute!_

_"Don't be afraid, I just want to be your friend!"_

_"Leave me alone, you lady—boy!"_

_He wasn't only uncute, but also rude! France puffed his cheeks in irritation......._

_......But wait, who was that little boy? Why couldn't he remember his name?_


	3. Missing Warmth

While waiting in the hospital's lobby for America to wake, two nations are having a hushed conversation between the two of them, the larger man having his arms around the smaller one.

"Ve~, Germany, do you think that America will be alright?" the representative of the country of North Italy asks his lover, bright and clear amber eyes brimming with unshed tears. He sobs. 

"Don't worry, Italia, America is strong. Don't forget that he's a superpower. He will surely be fine," he says soothingly.

Neither say a word, but both of them think of the moment where they found America passed out in the middle of his living room with his own blood tickling on his forehead. North Italy shudders with a whimper while Germany tightens his hold on the other. 

North Italy is afraid. He knows that he shouldn't be, that it is useless to worry about the bespectacled boy when he is currently one of the leading countries in the world. So where do this almost crippling fear came from? The fear that started after he and the others found America in his house unconcious? It is because of losing his grandpa or because of Holy Rome, who never came back to him despite promising to? Or is the fear born out of a recent loss? It feels like it. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it. It makes him afraid to lose Germany, Japan, Big Brother Spain and Big Brother France, too. 

He feels like he would die if he did.

_"Oh, for fuck's sake! Man up, you idiota!"_

He screams and jumps out of Germany's arms, wide eyes darting around the room and looking absolutely terrified. Meanwhile, Germany is looking up at him, puzzeld. "Italia?" 

Trembling from head to foot, he wipes the sweat from his brows. His pupils are blown wide. "D—don't worry, Germany, I—I thought that I heard someone calling me," he stammers. He doesn't recognize the voice and yet it left and aching longing in his heart.

Germany sighs. He stands up and put his hands on the other's shoulders. " I think that you're just tired, Italia. Let's go to your hotel room so you can rest. I'll call Francis to check on America later. You're health is more important, dear Italia, " he says, tone far warmer than it usually is.

Shaking his unshed tears away, Italy nods.

Xxxx

"I never expect that I would find you here, _Norge_ ," Denmark greets, smirking, before he sits next to the other Nordic nation. The inside of the bar is dimly lit; soft ballad playing on the back ground and several couples swaying on the floor. The ambience is very romantic despite the smells of alchohols and sweats around them. 

"Is there anything I could give you?" the female red—head bartender asks the newcomer, flashing him a flirtatious smile. She is hot and exactly the Dane's type but Norway can see that his brother isn't even slighty interested. 

"Just a tall glass of beer, babe," Denmark replies, winking. The bartender giggles and turns around to prepare his order. 

Norway scowls down on his drink. This has been his fifth glass since entering the establishment a couple of hours ago and yet his body and mind stubbornly stays sober. He wants to get drunk, he _needs_ to drunk, for that is the only way he can escape the guilty thoughts that has been chasing him ever since he and the group ( France, Italy, Germany, Canada, Japan, Russia and Denmark ) that have gone to visit and fetch America lying motionless on the floor inside his home. 

He never once expected that the side-effect of that _spell_ would be strong enough to knock out a very powerful nation like America.

And only because the young nation is starting to remember. Norway saw the signs on his face.

The same signs that he has seen on another one of his brother's face two hours ago before he bid him farewell.

"By the way, how's Tino?" he asks before his guilt could overwhelm him.

"He's already sleeping in his room in that hotel we all rented for the week. Said something about a headache killing him."

_It's your fault, you know_.

' _Shut up, shut up.'_

_"_ Norge, is there anything that you're not telling me? Something that has been bugging you?" Denmark asks, expression suddenly serious.

A bile rises in his throat. "No."

"Are you sure? Whatever it is, I will to help you and you know that. You can count on me."

The laugh that escapes his throat is bitter. "Sure, Den. Like you've been there when my people were dying one by one back then , right?"

He immediately regrets that sentence.

Denmark pales alarmingly at his words. "It's...it's not like—" 

Norway bites his lips. He shakes his head. "No, _no_. Look, Den, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that!" he cries out.

Denmark runs a hand on his face, looking visibly distraught. "No, no. You're right. I wanted to go to your house, to Emil's and Tino's. I swear I did! But my boss locked me up inside my house and forbade me from leaving and I'm...I'm _sorry_."

He swallows back a sob. The memories from 30 years ago are still fresh in his mind. He remember lying down in his bed, his body hurting all over, not being able to move, not being able to go out of his house ans help his boss and his people. He remembers wanting to see Matthias, Emil and Tino and remembers someone else visiting him and feeling _his_ weight on his bed where _he_ sat beside him. He remembers _his_ deep soothing voice telling him to rest and promising:

_"Don't worry, Lukas. I'll take care of everything."_

And how he had slept peacefully right after, the left—over warmth of _his_ hand on his shoulder a comfort through the excruciating pain of his country falling apart around him.

If he had known what that person was planning to do, then he would have forced himself to rise from his bed and stop him.

But it was already done. There is nothing he could do now but to shoulder the guilt and memories of his lost brother and friends.

The bartender comes back with Denmark's drink and hands it to the Dane without a word, her face solemn. She quickly turns around and move herself to a distance, which Norway feels grateful of.

Denmark lets out a brittle laugh. " I've been such a terrible brother to you and Emil and Tino, aren't I? Not only to you three, but to the other one. The _one_ that I failed to find."

Norway feels sick. 

"I couldn't even find _Sverige_. "

_Tell him the truth._

He swallows. "It's not your fault, Matt. Isn't Sverige one of the 'Lost Representatives?' England is already a thousand years old and yet Allistair, Dylan, Seamus and Ian still haven't found it's representative. It's very common."

_Liar, liar. You horrible liar._

_'Shut up, shut up, shut up.'_

Denmark just smirks but it doesn't reach his eyes, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a single word from his lips. He takes a swig of his beer.

_He trusts you and yet you continue to keep the secret from him. Berwald is also his brother and he cares deeply for him despite their pasts. You are a terrible person, Lukas Bondevik._

_'Shut the fuck up!'_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_'I don't need you to tell me that...because I already know it.'_

_'Arthur, Vladimir, Ber, what should I do? '_ he thinks, despairingly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Norway is different from canon but his personality here is the result of him keeping secrets about the nine nations that sacrificed themselves 30 years ago since he is the only one who didn't lose his memories of them. He also feels guilty for not being able to stop Sweden. 
> 
> Thank you to all all who bookmarked, subbed and left kudos! I really appreciate it!


	4. A sorrowful prayer

_With a heavy heart, Serena watches as the cruel and sadistic slave master flogs her best friend under the scorching hot summer sun inside the training yard of their master's large manor. She couldn't understand the reason behind the harsh punishment. Axel has always been a good slave; he is hardworking, patient, diligent and is always quick to follow what their master's orders, no matter how heavy or unfair the orders are._

_So why is he being punished? What has he done to deserve such cruel treatment?_

_'Ah,' she thinks, bitterly. 'Did Master lose plenty of money inside the gambling house again last night?'_

_Tearfully, she begins to pray under her breath, whispering pagan words that surely would have get her beaten or worse killed if someone other than Axel would have heard her, but at this point she can't bring herself to care. Her best friend, her kind—hearted and gentle best friend is being treated unfairly and knowing that no one would care to help him or the two of them at all, all she can turn to are their pagan gods of their home country, where the two of them have been violently taken from._

_With each sickening sound of the bullwhip hitting flesh, she feels her heart break more and more._

_'Please, please, somebody save us from this place," she weeps._

_After ten more minutes of hell, where Axel receives ten more lashes, the coarse—faced slave master beckons to her. His disgusting scent hits her nose the moment she reaches the two of them."Take him to his room with the others and tend to his injuries. We don't want lazy slaves in Master's house. Ya hear me, little girl?" Alan growls, looking down at the bleeding boy with contempt that burns a fire inside her chest._

_She bites her tongue before she can say a word that she knows she will regret. "Yes, sir," she answers, focusing her eyes to the ground._

_Carefully as not to aggravate the bleeding and angry—red looking lacerations on his back, she put his right arm over her shoulder and gently helps him stand and slowly leads him towards the room that he currently shares with the other slave boys in the building next to manor. He is sweating all over his body and his greenish—blue eyes are clouded with pain. He is trembling. "Serena?" he mutters, confused, his voice deep voice hoarse._

_Serena wants to cry again. Axel is a stoic boy who has been forced to grow up fast just like her. He usually don't show weakness despite how hard his jobs in the manor are, something that their Master hates about him for some reason. For me to show this much vulnerability to her only mean that he is extremely hurt._

_"I...I'm here," she mutters, for lack of anything to say. She can't comfort him, not now when her own heart is bleeding and her insides are in turmoil. She hates Alan, she hates their master and she fucking hates the heavens for abandoning the two of them when they needed it the most._

_Axel squints. She isn't sure what he saw on her face but his turquoise eyes (which she always admires and had often praised before) darkens considerably. "'m fine, Serena. Dun't cry,"he mutters._

_"They shouldn't have hurt you. You didn't even do anything wrong," she says, angrily._

_Axel shifts his body as to not burden her smaller form with his weight. But the movement only brings him more pain. "It's alright. Better me than you," he says, sadly._

_"Oh, Axel," she whispers. He's already in great and yet he is still worrying for her more than himself. She sobs._

_'I hate them. I hate them them for abusing you! I hate them for killing all the adults in our village and taking us children so they could sell us as slaves! I hate everyone in this place! I hate! I hate! I hate this world!'_

_'If only this world and everyone in it would just burn and die!'_

_Unbeknown to her, at that moment, a small fire is lit inside of her. A tiny speck of ember that if continued to be left unchecked, could turn into an inferno that will consume everything around it._

Xxxx

"Good morning, Kiku," Herakles Karpusi, also known as the nation of Greece, greeted the island country who is also his lover. He is carrying a breakfast tray bearing a plate of eggs, sausages, toast and a glass of milk. Said island nation is sitting on the edge of his bed next to the bedside table and currently reading an English article in his laptop, hair mussed up from sleep and is still wearing his polka dots pajamas. 

_'Cute.'_ Herakles thinks fondly. He walks towards the other man and places the tray next to his laptop. He peeks on he article and learns that it was about a violent riot that too place yesterday in the country called Philippines, an Eastern-Asian nation close to Kiku's. 

"This is the fifth riot in Manila this week," Kiku murmurs, apparently talkimg to himself and seemingly not noticing his lover standing next to him or the breakfast next to his laptop. He has a dazed expression on his face and if you looked closely, a bit of a heartache. He is also slightly trembling.

"Kiku, are you alright?" Herakles asks, putting his hands on the other's shoulders. That seems to have broken the island nation from whatever spell he is under. His face reverst back to it's usual stoic state.

" _Arigatou,_ Herakles—kun. I'm fine. Sorry for making you worried. And is this breakfast for me? I really appreciate it, my love, "Japan says, smiling a little. 

_Thump, thump._

Herakles' face suddenly feels so hot. They have been dating for years but for Herakles, it feels like when he was just falling in love with the other.

Then Japan's expression fell once more. He fidgets, which is something that the Greek nation has never seen the ever composed man do before. "I...Herakles-san, have you had a dream that you couldn't explain? Dreams about places, people and events that feel like your own memories but at the same time not at all?"

Herakles blinks, unsure. "Actually, yes. Before, I often saw my people's memories in my dreams." Those dreams have never once bugged him.

"But my dreams are different from yours, Herakles-kun. They don't feel like my people's memories at all. They feel like they belong to a person seperated from my whole being. However, I could clearly see what she sees, her her thoughts and feel what she feels as if I am living in her body in my dreams. I can feel her _hate_ and it frankly, it terrifies me because for a moment, it made me want to _break_ something or someone. I wanted to make her pain go away. "

Japan's voice breaks. He couldn't tell Greece anything more even if he is his long-time lover. He couldn't tell him how, five hours ago, he woke up with his heart hammering loudly in his chest and how he quickly opened his laptop and searched for what was currently happening in one of his neighboring countries like a man possessed and crushed he was when he found how how many civilians have died in the most recent riot in Manila, his neighbor's capital.

He is sure that if Greece had not entered their shared room with a soft smile and tray of breakfast for him, Japan would have lose his mind.

The sheer anguish in the normally calm Eastern nation's voice prompts him to embrace the other, who begins to shiver inside his arms. 

"I don't understand," Japan cries out on his shoulders, gripping his sleeves. "I don't even know who she is but I wanted to protect her. I wanted to save her from that place." 

The pain in his lover's voice makes him numb and he asks more out of curiousity and empathy than jealousy, "What's her name?"

Japan looks up to him, dark eyes wide with grief. "Serena. Her name's Serena, but I don't believe that is her real name."

"She's more like a lonely, beautiful pearl to me."

Xxxx

He's never ever going to get drunk ever again, Lukas vows as he raises from his bed at exactly 6 am. of the next day. His temple throbs, his vision is is still hazy from sleep and hangover and he feels like the contents of his stomach are currently doing acrobatic maneauvers as he blindly gropes for the door of the hotel room he is staying with his idiot brother, whose snores seem to have drowned out the angry banging on their door on his ears.

Or he'll just never drink with Denmark ever again. The other Nordic nation could chug down a barrel of beer and stay sober for hours while he couldn't even finish ten large bottles. The bet between the two of them have been rigged from the very start.

He also has a sneaking suspicions that his brother got the gorgeous bartender's number too while he was dying from stomach cramps right before the two of them left the bar at exactly 11 pm.

For a second, he is tempted to make a short trip to the bathroom, grab a glass of water and splash it on Denmark's face to rouse the idiot up but decided against it. A sleep-deprived Denmark is one-thousand times annoying than a normal Denmark, especially when he has just gone drinking the night before.

He winces as the banging on the door to their room becomes louder, making his headache worse and the urge to throw up his stomach becomes stronger.

_'Whoever you are, you must have a really good reason to disturb me in this time of the day or you'll find yourself shitting blood for a week,_ ' he thinks, darkly.

Oblivious to the Northern nation's darkening mood, the loud bangs continue until Lukas unlocks the door and opens it. 

A pair of hands swiftly grab the collar of his blue sweater and before he could react, pushes his whole body to the wall next to the door. 

His surpised purple eyes are met with a pair of furious green ones swimming in unshed tears.

"You," Switzerland growls, looking very deadly in his frilly pink pajamas that sends a pang of nostalgia in Norway's chest. Despite his hangover, Norways knows that he could have easily pushed the other violent nation away, if not for the palpable sadness and grief emanating from his whole body. "You _bastard,_ where the hell did you take my _sister_?"

Norway's stomach drops. 

Xxxx

Inside the apartment that he owns in New York but hasn't used more than two times, a red-haired and broad-shouldered young man regards the handkerchief in his hands with a sardonic smile. The handkerchief was hand-knitted and a bit worn out from age, yet obviously well-cared for. The Tudor rose design on the old piece of cloth is very lovely, accurate and the colors show no signs of fading. 

He can remember only one person that could masterfully replicate the old insignia.

"You are a big fool, baby brother," he says, softly. "You are one big fool.

"Because if you really want me and our brothers to forget, then you shouldn't have left a piece of yourself for me or Dylan to accidently find in one of you old castles.

"America is starting to remember now. France, too. And Ian is starting to suspect that the other European nations's memories are returning bit by bit through their dreams.

"Why didn't you ask anyone of us for help? Why did you have to erase our memories and made us believe that you and the other eight never existed? Why didn't you trust us, your brothers?

"Where are you, _Arthur?_ "


	5. Siblings

"Where is she?! Tell me where is she, _damn you?!"_ the furious nation screams at his face, shaking him. Norway has no doubt that Vasch would shoot him if he was carrying one of his guns. 

Norway feels helpless. He knows that one day everyone will recover their memories of that nine nations that have sacrificed themselves to save the world from the horde of monster that attacked them 30 years ago. They used the spell that he, together with Arthur and Vladimir, created using the most evil of all dark magic. The three of them have been desperate; they have already lost more than one third of their people and their siblings and friends were no doubt suffering as badly or worse than they were. 

It didn't take them long to find the right spell to kill the monsters and it also didn't take them long to find the other six willing to lay down their lives to pay the price of saving the world and their loved ones.

But in the end, he had abandoned them.

_He_ was supposed to be one of the Nine. But he wasn't even there to help Arthur activate the spell.

And as his punishment, he decided to keep the secret and burden alone, despite the guilt and recriminations that are slowly driving him insane.

So Norway can understand what the other nation is feeling right now. The painful feeling of losing a beloved sibling.

Because of him. His _sin_.

He feels his mind cleared. Calmly yet firmly, he removes Vasch's fists from his collar and pushes him away from him. 

"My brother is still sleeping. I'll answer your questions but not here. Let's go to another place."

And instead of punching him like Norway expects, Vasch only nods, face pinched in agitation.

Xxxx

They silently enters a communal bathroom in the same floor of Norway and Denmark's room. Though calm, Norway can feel his guilt rise again aling with the demons whispering inside his mind, throwing insults at him and reminding him on how he had abandoned and betrayed both Arthur and Vladimir and of the lies he had told in the past 30 years. 

_You should have been with them. They were all afraid._

_You're a coward._

_Because of you Sweden is gone. And you lied about him to Denmark, Iceland and Finland._

_You knew that Finland loves Sweden and was about to confess to him but you erased all his precious memories of Sweden from his mind. You were the reason for his sadness for the past 30 years._

_Coward._

_Coward._

_Liar._

_You abandoned your friends._

_You abandoned your family._

Norway wants to rip scream, to rip his hair and to drown the voices again with beer, hangover be damned, but he knows that the already distraught nation with him won't appreciate it. 

Switzerland looks like he's trying his best to remain calm, looking everywhere but him. He lifts a hand and wipes away the tears that flowed down his cheeks. 

After a few silent minutes, his eyes are met with a flinty stare, green eyes asking questions that he is now ready to answer.

He inhales deeply, before beginning to explain everything that happened 30 years ago.

Xxxx

_"Britain, I'm no longer your younger brother. From now on consider me independent."_

_"What happened to you? I remember that you were great."_

Gasping loudly, America sat on his bed, sweats dotting not only his face but the rest of his body. 

Who? What? When did that moment happened? He remember his own uniform in during the Revolutionary War and he also the bright red coats of the British soldiers he had fought against in the said war. But who was the British young man in that muddy field under the rain with him? And why did he call him Britain? That can't be possible. He doesn't remember the British Empire having a personification at all. Scotland had acted as the unofficial representative of the empire but everyone knew that it wasn't supposed to be him. And America would recognize the older nation's bright red hair anytime and anywhere. 

He thinks of that dream. Those bright green eyes darkened with sorrow and regret, thick eyebrows not unlike the Kirkland brothers and a handsome face that brings a powerful yearning inside his heart. Who is he? And why does the dream of him crying on his knees brought an unimaginable pain in his heart, as if it was about to be ripped into pieces? 

Was he, was he the representative of the British Empire and America killed him during the revolution? America remember the words he had said in his dream, painful words that made the other man's face contort with pain. Did he, by declaring a war, hurt someone special to him, someone who was like an older brother to him, before killing him? If he did, then why he hadn't remembered that person before this day? 

America feels that something is wrong. But what it is? Why couldn't he remember? What is happening to him? 

As he is about to rise from his bed and ready himself to attend the World Conference and apologize to the other nations for not attending the first day, France enters his room, looking haunted. He doesn't look like he has been sleeping for the past few hours since the two of them left the hospital last night.

" _Ameriqué,_ _Éccose_ and his brothers have something to tell us. Let's go." 

"What is it that they want to tell us?" he asks, a little shaky from his own thoughts and that dream.

"I don't know but he said that it was important. And I trust him. "

Xxxx

Everyone sits around the table, all looking like they haven't slerp at all. They are dark bags under their eyes and their clothes are looking slightly unkempt. Canada, Finalnd, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Austria, China and Russia and Switzerland all look the worst of them all. Especially Switzerland who seem to have his whole world crumbled around him.

He can also feel the sadness, confusion, a little bit of anger and despair inside the room, especially from Finland who radiates heartbreak and sorrow so strong that he felt his senses reeling the moment the Nordic nation entered the room. It took him a few moments to regain his composure and shook Finland's hand when it was offered.

Sitting next to the Finnish man, Norway isn't looking at any of them, and Wales can see the guilt barely hidden beneath the nation's dull indigo eyes. Wales is never a violent person and he is never prone to strong outburst of emotions like his brothers but for a brief moment he wants to grab the blond and shout at him to explain and ask him why let Arthur do something so _foolish_ and so _selfless_ without telling his brothers and even saying goodbye. But he restrains himself for he and his three brothers that are with him in the room still aren't sure if Norway has any involvement to what Arthur and the other eight have done 30 years ago. And because Norway looks very tired, which is weird because it is currently 8 o'clock in the morning. 

Wales glances furtively at his brothers. Ian looks stressed, running one gloved hand over his messy red locks every minute, eyes darting from one nation to another and for the first time in years ignoring the tobacco pipe in Allistair's hand; his Scottish brother has a contemplative expression on his face and a faraway look on his eyes. He must be remembering Arthur, Wales thinks, sadly. He can't blame him, for he misses Arthur as much or more than he do. Arthur with whom he has lived with for almost a thousand years. Arthur who has been like the second half of his own soul. And it hurts to think that he has forgotten him and it hurts to think that if he, his brothers and all of the occupants of the room fail, then he won't be able to see him ever again. 

Him and the other eight.

They can't fail. They mustn't fail.

As if sensing his thoughts, Seamus looks up from his cup of tea, Earl Grey with honey and a bit of milk, ( _just like how Arthur would take his_ , he thinks with a slight pang in his chest) and he gives him an reassuring smile, as if to say that everything will be alright. He smiles back, feeling his chest becoming lighter. 

The door to their meeting place opens and France and America enter the room, both pantimg and looking like they have run from Brooklyn to New York with how dishelved they both are. It is actually quite shocking to see France like this. 

"Sorry we're late," America sheepishly apologizes. "And sorry for not attending the meeting yesterday,"he adds, thoughtfully.

Germany clears his throat. "It's fine. You don't have to apologize for what happened wasn't your fault. We all know that you're sick."

"Ve~ America, are you alright? Shouldn't you be still in the hospital?"

"Thank you, Germany! And no, Italy, I'm feeling good right now! I'm the hero after all! No sickness could beat the hero!" America laughs, though it is obvious that the cheer in his tone is false.

Italy visibly _wilts_. 

"So, dear _Écosse_ , why did you call all of us here?" France asks Scotland, sweetly, though his blue eyes are serious.

Allistair's eyes darts to his friend and then to America as if he is looking for something. Wales isn't sure what it is. 

"Get on with it, Alba," he hears Ian growls under his breath. 

Allistair sighs. "Before we begin, I want to ask all of you a question. Only one question. Are you all right with that?"

Everybody, except Norway, perks up. 

Then there is a chorus of agreement from everyone gathered in the room. 

"Last night, did all of you recover your memories of people who are claim to be the representatives of _Portugal_ , _Liechtestein_ , _Sweden_ , _Hong Kong_ , _South Italy_ , _Philippines_ , _Prussia_ , _Romania_ and _England?_ "

The look on their faces are enough of an answer to his brother's question.


	6. This time, I'll save you!

"I do," Canada's answer is merely above a whisper, and yet everybody in the room heard it because of the silence that seemed to have enveloped it after Allistair's shocking question. All eyes goes to him but this time the shy nation isn't paying attention to anyone. There is a faraway look on his purple eyes eyes, as if remembering something that happened a long time ago. " Last night, I dreamed of a young man who introduced himself to me as Arthur Kirkland and the representative of England while I was still a very young nation. He told me that he had beaten 'the bloody frog' and from then on I would be his colony. He was nice though I felt a bit afraid of him at first. That dream was so vivid, as if it was real and it felt like a memory. But that couldn't be possible, right?" he asks, looking at Scotland, earnestly, as if the European nation could answer all the questions in the world.

Wales closes his eyes, sadly.

Scotland smiles, softly. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but Arthur is real. He is the reperesentative of England from the beginning.

He takes a deep breath. "Listen to me, fellas, I want to tell everything that happened to the so—called Lost Representatives. You all heard about them, right? About how nine countries were discovered, developed and advance all these years and yet none of their bosses could've found these countries' representatives? Well, that was a big lie. Those representatives have all been found from the moment their lands were all formed into one country. And we know them. My brother, Arthur, was one of them. But something happened 30 years ago that made us forget them. 

"Explaining everthing to all of you would take very long. Just know that a magic spell had been cast on the us to make us forget them. And because a magic was used, then only magic could counter it. " He turns to Norther Ireland. "Seamus, do you the book with you?"

Northern Ireland nods, retrieves a thick, black, dusty book from a green carrier bad and pass it to his older brother. 

France's eyebrows rise. He opens his mouth to speak but a glare from Ireland quickly shut him up. 

Scotland opens the book, flips several pages before stopping at the page that he is looking for. He begins to recite a spell in Old Latin, and instantly he feels his long sleeping magical power rise in every single cell of his body, awakening and answering his call. Just like Ireland, he never pratices magic as much as England, Wales and Northern Ireland do, but he can still tap on it anytime he needed it, which wasn't really often. He realizes, which a start, that he has forgotten how invigorating the feeling of abundant magical power inside his body is. He smiles slighty. 

Next to him, he feels the warm glow of Ian's magic as his brother begins his chant as a reponse to his own. Then Seamus joins them, his magic soft and comforting and lastly, Dylan, whose magic feels like the cold wind and rain of the British Empire. 

And in that moment, their magic became one.

America can only stare, eyes wide with wonder. What is happening in front of him is incredible and he can't remove his eyes from the scene. The corner of his eyes, he sees that France and the other nations close to him are also staring at the British Isles brothers, all tranfixed at the grand display of magic before them. 

Then Ireland says something in an old forgotten language and America felt something inside of his mind _snaps,_ and like a broken dam images, voices and events flooded his mind and he screams, clutching his head. 

_A young handsome man with messy blond hair, very large eyebrows and a cocky smirk on his face stood before him, one hand on his hip and another pointing a finger at him._

_"I am England, and from now on, I'm your older brother!"_

_"Okey. Then can I call you bro?"_

_"B-bro?"_

_"Please, England, don't leave," he begged from his bed, heavily swearing and almost delirous from the pain of feeling his citizens dying one by one at a rapid rate._

_"I'm sorry," England said, gritting his teeth. "But I really need to go. Don't worry. After this night, you wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. You and Canada, too. I will save both of you, I promise you."_

"England," he groans, painfully, still clutching his head. Why why why why why—!!!!

_He saw her in one of her beaches, wearing a loose blouse and long flowy skirt that reached her ankles. A single sampaguita flower was tucked at her left ear. She was barefoot ; sitting on the sand and watching the sea with a pensive expression on her lovely face. The warm weather and humidity was almost choking him and drowning him in his own sweat and yet she didn't seem to be affected by both._

_"If you want to say something, say it," she suddenly said, her English perfect with a slight accent. Her solemn dark eyes never left the sea, however._

_So, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and grinned like an idiot. "Hi! I'm the United States of America, but you can also call me Alfred F. Jones. I and my men are here to help you and your people gain independence from that bastard Spain! Nice to meet ya!"_

_She turned to him and he saw that despite her youth, her eyes looked tired. She smiled, slightly. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. America. My name is Philippines but you can call me Dolores Magsaysay."_

_He was talking to her over the phone; his usual reservation on contacting her after his new boss forbade him to making way for his brotherly concern towards the island nation. "Dolores, are you alright? Do you want me to go to your house? I'll take a private jet, my boss wouldn't known where am I until I arrohved at your doorsteps. Dolores I—"_

_"D—don't..." she says, weakly, cutting him off. She coughed and he winced at the wet sound. She must be coughing blood again. "I—I'm fine, I assure you... You don't need to worry about me, Alfred. Just stay in your own home. Please..."_

_He sighed. There was nothing he could do now that she already refused his help. "Okey. If this is what you want, Dolores."_

_"Alfred, thank you..."_

America collapses on his knees, his face wet his tears.

Xxx

Norway feels terrible as he watched all the nations in the room crying and clutching their heads as the memories that his and Arthur's and Vladimir's spell removed from their minds came back to them in a very painful way. Even Switzerland wasn't spared despite already regaining his memories of his sister the night before. He wonders where the Kirkland brothers found that book that he recognized as one of the forbidden tomes secretly hidden in Vatican under bolts and numerous locks. 

"So I see you already about the Arthur's spell, Mr. Norway. You're the only one other than me and my brothers not affected by the spell we just used to bring back the others' memories," Wales says venomously on his shoulder, almost causing him to flinch. Almost. 

"It is rude to sneak on another people, Mr. Kirkland," he says, his calm tone a contrast to his sharply beating heart. 

Wales scoffs. His gaze is full of contempt. "Why don't you explain to me the reaosn why you hid the secret of the lost nations for 30 years? Tell me, _Lukas,_ " he spits, fingers gripping the Nordic nation's right shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. There was nothing I could do. Nothing that all of us could do back then. _They_ were killing all of us. If I, Arthur, Vladimir and the others hadn't done anything, then all of us would have been dead 30 years ago. That was the only way to save us all."

The grip tightens. "Then why...then why did you all erase our memories?"

"I didn't know that will happen. None of us did. The spell that Arthur used was only about using the nine sacrifices' life energies and their connection to their lands. I really didn't expect that it would also erased the memories of the sacrifices from everyone's memories, except me. When I learned about it, it was already too late. There was nothing I could do to reverse it.

"I'm going to be honest to you, Dylan. I expected that all of you would regain your memories after one hundered years. That's how strong the spell was and the reason why now matter how hard I tried for years to I couldn't find a way to remove that memory—removal side—effect." 

Norway will never forget the day he woke up and felt that the severe pain that he had been suffering from had disappeared. He was shocked, then horrified when he realized that Arthur and Vladimir have both followed the plan despite him not being present. And he was even more horrified when he realuzed that it was Sweden who had taken his role. That wasn't suppose to happen. He was supposed to be one of the sacrifices, not Sweden. But how did Sweden find out about it? The nine of them have made damn sure to keep their plan a secret from the rest pf the world. 

"But why not tell us? Why not ask for our help? Arthur was our brother. We would've help him without hesitation," Northern Ireland suddenly asks at his left, his accent thick and tone tremulous.

Norway realizes that all four brothers are around him now, Scotland and Ireland are glaring down on him; Wales femanding answers and the youngest, Northern Ireland, looks as if he is about to cry.

Norway knows that he has to be honest with them. "It was Arthur's decision. He wanted to protect all of you."

He closed his eyes as not to see the anguish on the brothers' faces. 

_'I'm sorry, Arthur. It seemed that I couldn't even keep my last promise to you.'_

Xxxx

After a couple of hours when the nations aside from Norway and the Kirkland brothers recovered from their ordeal (some nations, most from Middle East and Asia excused themselves and left the room to go back to their respective hotels, looking upset and confused by the revelation. )

Also Norway repeated to the nations that remained what he had revealed to the Kirkland brothers. Their reactions were as expected. 

Canada, pale and eyes red—rimmed underneath his glasses and clutching a sympathetic Kumajiro in his arms. "So, what should we do? Are they really gone?"

At his question, America turns pale, France's body becomes rigid, Germany clenches his fists, Italy hides his face in his palms with a broken cry and Spain, who has been strangely quiet from the moment moment he entered the room slammed his fists on the table, startling Netherlands and Belgium who are both sitting next to him. 

The normally cheerful nation has a very dark expression on his face. His eyes are puffy. " _No_ , " he growls, hoarsely. "I refuse to accept it. I won't accept that Romano, my brother and Gilbert are dead." 

"Is there anything that we can do to save them, Norway— _san_? Is there a way to save England— _san_ , Phillipines— _san_ and the others?" 

"Japan, actually there is—"

" _Ve~_ I miss my brother. Germany, Germany I want to see him again!"

" I swear that I will drop kick damn Prussian douchebag when I see him! How dare that albino bastard do something like that? Doesn't he care about his brother at all?!"

"Elizabeta, my dear, put down your frying pan. You're scaring Latvia and Lithuania." 

" _Norge_ , how could you lie to me about Sve?! I trusted you _WAAAAAAAA!!!!_ "

"I'm so sorry for lying to you, Den. So please stop crying on my ears." 

"For lying to us about Svi I won't ever call 'big brother' after all."

"That's really harsh, Ice."

There are a bit of chaos as the over 50 nations in the room try to cope with what happened to England and the other eight nations 30 years ago. The mood became lighter and Norway notices, to his relief, the smiles coming back on the faces of the nations heavily affected by it all. His brother Finland doesn't look as heart broken as two hours ago. 

China, who has been pretty quiet while the others were causing ruckus, suddenly stands up and demands, "I don't believe that they're dead, _aru_. I can still feel Hong Kong and Philippines through their connections to their territories. Tell us, do you guys know where the rest of them are? "

Scotland takes a drag from his pipe ( _when did he lit that thing up?_ Norway thinks, idly.) before he nods. " They're not dead. My brothers and I already found a way to find Arthur and the others. They're not in this world but in others. They are in other dimensions that are connected to this world. The spell that should've killed all of them only sent them to those dimensions and erased our memories of them. Isn't that right, Norway?"

"Yes. I just don't know how it happened. I've been trying to find out what caused it since it still killed the monsters that attacked all of us but the book of forbidden magic that we used to create the spell had also disappeared with Arthur." He shrugs helplessly. 

He can still feel Sweden through his connection to his brother's lands. However, thay doesn't alleviate the guilt of letting him take his place. But he knows his brother and how stubborn he could be, especially regarding Tino, who was one of the nations who had been suffering the most back the then, worse than him. 

Losing Sweden hurt him deeply but looking at the Kirkland brothers, he feels a light of hope lit inside him for the first time in three decades.

"Then can we take them back, _da_?" Russia asks, with a small polite smile. That smile doesn't reach dull—looking eyes, however. His older sister Ukrain reaches for his hand underneath the table and squeezes it in a small gesture of comfort.

Russia won't like to show it, but the disappearance of the nine hurt him greatly and only his sisters and Lithuania know, something which he prefers.

"You bet your arse we'll take them all back," Ireland says harshly, crossing his arms. "We've already pinpointed each of their locations. However, not all of them are in the same dimension, and the trip that we will take will be really long. We also have no knowledge or any information about those dimensions so we will not know how dangerous those places are.

"Me and my brothers are leaving the day after tomorrow. We've already done all the preparations needed and the magical aaray that will transport us in each dimension has already been prepared. So, I am going to ask :Who is going to come with us? And remember, we can only take" 

"I will," Hungary answers unhesitatingly. Then her eyes narrow. "I will beat that dumbass Prussia until he begs for mercy when I see him!"

Austria adjusts his glasses. "If Elizabeta will go, then count me in."

"I will go, aru."

"Ve~ Germany, Japan and I are going with you guys, too."

"If you'll then I will go with you," Greece says, taking Japan's hand on his own, causing the island nation to blush.

"Hahaha! I'm coming with you guys! I can't wait to see Svi's face when he realizes that I am the one who save his stupid ass!"

Norway turns to Iceland and Finland. "What about you two?" Iceland answers in affirmative.

Finland's smile is razor—sharp. "Are you going to stop me, Lukas?" he asks back, tone sweet yet laced with acid. His eyes are very hard, just like they were during the Winter War.

Norways shakes his head. It seems that his normally sweet and cheerful is harboring a bit of resentment towards him for keeping what happened to Sweden a secret all these years.

It seems that he will need to talk to his brother really soon. He doesn't really need to find a knife underneath his pillow later 

" _Mon diue! I_ s that even a question? Of course I'll go. I can't wait for _Anglettere_ to run into my arms and call me his savior as I take him back home to his country and Royal Family," France says, dramatically with a hand on his heart, causing Arthur's brothers to shoot him daggers through their eyes.

" Aurel and I are going to too," Bulgaria announces, holding Moldova's hand. "I have something to say to Vladimir's face when I see him again." The threat is said so calmy that it isn't hard to miss, except for those who have known him for long.

Moldova makes a small sound and bobs his head, cutely. 

"Natalia and I coming with you. We can't hardly miss everything, right?" Russia smiles creepily to Wales, who seems to have grown smaller in his seat.

"Su... sure. Wha...what about you, Ms. Ukraine?"

Ukraine smiles sadly. "I'm sorry but I can't leave. I would have to explain Ivan's and Natalia's leaving to their bosses. 

Nobody dares to ask Switzerland, or else they'd risk a gun to their faces. The answer is already obvious through his face.

Out of the Baltics, Lithuania is the only one who agrees to leave with them. Seeing his friend's decision, Poland also volunteers to join their mission.

"I'll go too! I can't wait to see my little tomato again! O Romano, my Romano, where are you, Romano?" Spain cries out, hugging the person sitting closest to him, Netherlands, who looks ready to pass out of rage or embarassment, Belgium isn't sure.

Then they all turn to America, who looks ready to jump from his seat. "Of course I'll go! I'm the hero after all!" he declares, grinning.

_"Don't worry, England! As your hero, I'll come and save you! Just wait for me!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the list of nations that will join the dimension-hopping adventure to rescue the nine lost are: the Kirkland brothers, Norway, the other Nordic countries, America, France, Spain, Japan, Italy, Germany, China, Greece, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Belarus, Lithuania, Poland, Switzerland, Bulgaria and Moldova. 
> 
> Thank you for those who read, left kudos and comment s and bookmarked this story! I really appreciate it!


	7. Families

"Seriously, I'll return in a week, okey? Besides, you're the one who's been telling me to take a break once in a while, don't 'ya? I justhave a very important matter to take care of. ...wait, I'm serious! And no, it's not about the end of the world! Just trust me about this, okey? Okey, gotta go. Bye, boss." 

Sighing, America turns off his phone and stuffs it inside his suit's pocket. 

It's been three days since the World Conference that changed his perception on the past thirty years. The twenty–five nations that will go save the nine they have lost three decades ago have agreed to meet in England's house in London, one that, if it weren't for Northern Ireland being given the rights for it, would have fallen in disrepair a long time ago, unlike England's manors that have their own housekeepers. For years Norther Ireland have taken care of the simple yet lovely house while living in it, believing that it is a gift from the state. When he realized the truth, the physically fourteen–year–old Kirkland had broken down, calling and sobbing to his Southern counterpart on the phone. 

He hadn't been pleased while Ireland reenacted the phone call to the gathered nations, however. 

After a moment of indecision, America decides to change into a pair of jeans, a blue sweater and a pair of running shoes. 

Canada is waiting for him outside his room. His twin holds Kumajiro in his arms and the two are currently having a distressing argument.

"Look, here, Kumakoko, I can't take you with me. I and the others are going to somewhere really dangerous and I'm worried that you might get hurt. But don't worry, I already talked to Kaelin and he promised that he'll take care of you in my stead."

His bro's animal companion looks ready to bite him. "Take me with you. I've sworn from the moment that we met that I will protect you, Canada. So I refuse to be left behind," the little snow-white bear says firmly.

Canada's brows furrow worriedly. He shakes slightly and then hugs his friend tighter. "I just don't want you to get hurt. That's all, Kumafuji."

"Stop worrying about the possibilities and the likes. I give you my word that I will not let anyone or anything to hurt me."

"Are you sure, Kumakuchi?"

"Yes. Now smooth those wrinkles on your forehead and trust me. Besides, nothing can make me leave your side at all."

A sigh. "Thank you."

Kumajiro inclines his head, face blank. "Who are you?"

Canada sighs again. But his face lights up considerably. " Alright, I'll take you with us. But I need to talk to Kaelin again and tell hom that we have a change of plans. And I'm Canada, the one who feeds you, you know."

Kumajiro doesn't answer. Insteads he opts to ignore his owner. 

"Yo, Matt, bro! How are you doing?" he greets cheerfully, which startles his twin and make the taller man turn towards him with a glare.

"Alfred! Didn't I already tell you to stop doing that? You can give someone a heart attack one day!" he demands in his naggy tone of voice that is familiar in a heart–aching way.

He grins. "Come on, bro, loosen up a little. You're starting to sound like Artie there."

Realizing what he has just said, America's grin falls.

He pauses and then a heavy silence falls between the two of them. 

After a moment, Canada's eyes glisten. "I miss him, Alfred," he confesses, voice quavering. 

"I know. I miss him, too. But...we can find him, right? His brothers are just waiting for the right time to start the ritual, which would be five hours from now."

"It's just that...I can't believe that he's been gone for thirty and I didn't even know. Why did we have to lose not only him but also our memories of him? Why? It isn't fair, Alfred." He blinks back his tears.

America can't find the right words to answer his brothers' queation. He is never good with emotional moments like this at all. And looking at the vulnerabilty that Canada is showing at him, he doubts that joking will do more harm than good. 

So he puts another fake grin on his face and slaps his brother's back, who yelps in surprise. "Cheer up, Matt! I'm sure that all Artie wanted was for us to be safe and living worry–free. And we can always ask him about the spell that he used when we see him again, right?"

Canada sighs. He wipes away his tears with his fingers. "You're right. When I see him again then we can ask him. He has some explaining to do." He huffs.

America laughs. "Make sure to drill that old man with question, okey? We won't let him rest until he answer all of them. That's a promise." 

"By the way, I'm sure that the ithers are already waiting for us in Arthur's fancy–ass house in London. Want to take the flight with me, bro?"

"Why do you think I'm here for, Alfred? Just give me a minute to call Kaelin a call to tell him that I'll be takimg Kumapiko with me."

"Didn't he tell you why he and Liam couldn't come with us?"

"Yes. Both of their countries have been suffering in civil unrest lately. They want to go look for Arthur, too, but they couldn't leave their lands for a week or two. Kaelin is really sad about it because they miss Arthur as much as we do."

"Well, all we can do is to bring back Arthur with us, right? 

"Then our family will be whole again."

Xxxx

The lady sterwardess—Gabrielle, was it?—that brought his drink is a gorgeous woman with a glossy brown hair tied in a high ponytail, a pair of electric green eyes, adorable dimples on both cheeks and a body that would put a supermodel's into shame. In another time, another place, France would've flirted with her, charming her into giving her full name and number. Today, however, he can't bring up the energy to do more than thank her for bringing his drink. 

Sitting on the seat next to his, his companion sighs. 

"This is the seventeenth times you sighed in this fight, my dear Antonio, " he comments, before taking a sip on his drink. "You know you can spill what's been troubling you to me, right? It is about the matter with Romano, your brother, Gilbert and the other six?"

Spain sighs, looking a kicked puppy. " I just can't believe that all of them did that without telling us or even leaving a letter to say goodbye. Allistair told that the spell wasn't supposed to erase our memories. So didn't they care at all about what will think when they suddenly disappeared into thin air without us knowing why?" 

Realizing that his friend is clise to crying, France gently pats his on the back in sympathy. "I think that they have a good reason for not telling us, _mon ami,_ " he says, softly. "And I know little Romano. He may be hard on the edges and a rude young man but I know that he couldn't live without you. He loves you, remember that. And I believe that Henrique and Gilbert would do anything for the sake of their brothers."

To France's delight, the dark clouds over Spain's mood seem to have been lifted and his friend's sunny disposition returns. 

And for the next one hour and a half France find himself being regaled with cherrful stories about baby turtles, sand castles and plump tomatoes.

He can't ask for anything more. Nor he would want to.

He closes his eyes and leans back on his chair, feeling content for the first time in that week.

A pair of fierce green eyes flashes inside his mind.

Xxx

Norway sees from the corner of his eyes Finland pulling a small velvet box inside his bag. It is a familiar object to him, for he had been there with Ice and Den when a nervous and stuttering Finland asked the receptionist of the eleventh jewelry store that they have visited for the day.

The Finnish man had been preparing to confess to his larger housemate for a week and none of the three of them had the heart to tell him that you needn't a ring for a confession, just a boquet of flowers or a romantic dinner date for two was enough. And knowing Sweden, he would be happy with hear Finland's confession even in the background of their house that they have lived in for years. 

But Finland had been adamant about making that moment perfect for Sweden. 

Years ago, after England activated the spell, Finland came to him to share how he found a beautiful sapphire–studded engagement ring inside the pocket of his favorite pants. It looked very expensive amd Finaldn had wondered aloud if he had bought it while drunk, for he was never ever prone to waste money on such trivial objects, and for something he wouidn't use at all.

Norway had stayed silent, throat constricting and too emotional to trust himself to speak.

Finland, however, could never bring himself to part with the precious jewelry.

Norway wonders, briefly, if those vile creatures hadn't attacked earth, if he could have seen both Tino and Ber at the altar wearing tuxedos and matching golden rings, the former with a bright smile on his face and the latter with a soft and rare one that makes his face less severe and scary.

Finland's feelings has never changed, Norway is sure of that. For something so deep–rooted in someone's heart it will take more than three decades and memory alternation to kill it. 

He swears that they will find Ber and take him home with them. 

So their family will be complete once more.

Xxxx

"Big brother Boris?"

"Yes, Aurel?"

"Do you think that big brother Vlad got mad and tired of always taking care of me so he left us both?"

"N–no! Where did you get that from?! Listen, Aurel, your big brother loves you and would never ever get tired of you. He left because he wanted to protect you. Understand?"

"Okey..."

"Hey, big brother Boris. Why are you crying? Do you miss big brother Vlad, too?"

"W–wha–? I'm not crying! I just have sand on my eyes! Yes, sand!"

Xxxx

"Guid mornin," Scotland greets his brothers upom entering the kitchen of England's, currently Northern Ireland's home, where he finds Wales at the stove cooking some English breakfast, Northern Ireland preparing tea and Ireland baking scones. 

His mouth twitches at the strangely domestic scene that sends a warm glow in his chest. Though if only Arthur was here then he would have raised hell at the sight of their brothers in his kitchen, only to be start grumbling while taking a seat after Ireland would kick him away from the stove. 

And then the five of them would share breakfast together, talking about matters of their states until the converstaion would suddenly veer off to one 'loud–mouthed, chubby, idiotic American with hero complex' and Wales would sigh long–sufferingly, Noethern Ireland would snicker on his cup of tea and he and Ireland would would ruthlessly tease their brother about his very obvious crush who would blush, stutter and then starts cursing all of them pasionately. 

Scotland wills the painfully sweet scenario away from his mind. 

" 'Morning, Ali," Wales greets, keeping his eyes on the stove. Ireland's and Northern Ireland's melodious voices chim greetings to their eldest brother.

"By the way, I received a call from France ten minutes ago," Ireland says, pulling a tray of freshly baked Irish scones from the oven. "He'll be arriving here with Spain soon. Spain came to visit him a couple of days ago and they decided to take a flight towards here in London together." He begins to put the still hot scones on several fine chinas and before placing them on the table.

Scotland nods, thoughtfully, taking a seat.

Xxxx

It didn't take long before Wales and Norther Ireland finish their tasks and for the guests to arrived. As promised, France arrived early together with Spain. Then Bulgaria entered their door holding little Moldova's hand. The Nordics arrived together; then Russia and his sister; China and Japan arrived, the former looking vexed and the latter morose; Greece arrived not long after the two Asian nations and upon seeing his boyfriend's mood, walked towards him and gave him a bear hug, which seemed to lift Japan's disposition considerably. Then Lithuania and Poland walked through the door, Feliks chattering, more like complaining about his control freak of a boss while Toris nodded and sometimes winced in sympathy. With his ever present scowl, Switzerland got out of a cab together with Austria and Hungary, the latter being overly sweet and cuddly while walking towards the house. A few minutes later, Italy and Germany arrived with a loud _'Ve~'_. And last but not the least, Scotland saw the North American twins, together with Canada's pet polar bear Kumajiro, entered the gates of the house.

They were all lucky that his brothers cooked a breakfast large enough for an army, for several of their guests came to their home famished since they've forgotten to eat breakfast before taking several hours of flight.

After eating breakfast and making small talk, the Kirkland men decided to start making some finishing touches on the magic array that they will use to transport themselves and the other twenty–one nations to another dimension. 

Scotland hopes that nothing will go wrong. Magic is always a sensitive thing. One small mistake and all of their plans will irrevocably go down the drain.

Xxx

Quietly, Sealand climbs inside the window of England's and Northern Ireland's house, being careful not make a noise that will alert the representatives inside the house. If he got caught, he is sure that one of that jerk Arthur's brothers or Mr. Finland would send him home. But they can't do that! He'll be a great country one day! He, the awesome Sealand, will show them! Ha! And that jerk Arthur, too, who he doesn't miss at all! He misses Papa Sweden and wamts to see him again but not that jerk Arthur! Never!

Tiptoeing, he reaches the kitchen and sees America, Canada and France talking to each other in hushed voices while sitting beofre the table Spain is drinking a cup of coffee, a thoughtful look on his face. 

Silently, like the spies in America's movies, he begins tonadvance deep inside the house towards the basement and enters it. Arthur's brothers are there, talking to each other and standing before a large drawing on the floor of the basement. 

He grins and hides himself behind the big boxes on the corner. Let's see if they could send him away after he perform his awesome act later!

Xxx

Much, much later, Scotland realizes that not all plans go smoothly.

"Blimey, my head hurts."

"Mine feels like it's about to crack open, _aru_."

" _Ve~"_

"Peter, this is your fault! Who taught you to jump in the middle of a magic array while it is im the middle of activating, you little rascal?"

"Hmph! If I hadn't done then you would have all left me behind! You can't be do that to me because I'm going to become a great country one day!"

" _Ve_ ~"

"Bollocks!"

" _Mon dieu_ , please stop shouting on my ear, Dylan." 

"Darn it, my head hurts..."

"Oh, my darling, do you need anything? A handkerchief? A cup of tea? Water? Aspirins?"

" _Ve~_ "

"Someone should pay for giving me this nasty headache, right, _da_?"

"Who gave my big brother headache? I'm going to kill them."

" _Ve~_ "

"Ahh! Who touched my butt? It is you, Francis?"

"Sorry, my dear Antonio, but it's not me this time. But if you want _mi amour_ , just come near me and I'll oblige you."

"Sorry, Spain–san. That was me. I was looking for Greece–san and touched you by mistake. Please forgive me."

"Well, it's fine. At least I know that you're not a pervert."

"Are you hurt somewhere, Kumamomo?"

"Who are you?"

"So, I think that it's the time for a hero like me to save the day again!"

" _Ve~_ "

"Where are we?"

"Where did you bring us, you Scottish arsehole? Tell me right now or I'll shoot you!"

"Oww, I think I broke a hip."

"Please, everybody calm down."

"Not even a bad fall call vanquish a former Viking like me! Watch me, Nor as I stand on both feet!"

"Shut up, Den."

"Has anyone seen Mr. Puffin?"

"That's like, totally not cool. I think that, I totally, broke a nail, Toris. Do you know how expensive this is?!"

"Not the time, Feliks. Not the time."

" _Ve~!!!_ "

Everyone turns towards the young Italian man, who bursts into tears. 

"Ve~ Where's Germany?"

Xxx

His whole body hurts; his ears are ringing and he is sure that his left ankle is twisted. Through his groggy conciousness, he feels that his hands are tied behind him and he's leaning on his side on a hard surface. 

The first scent that he becomes aware of is the salt of the sea and fishes, and then the gross odor of unwashed bodies assaults his nose and he instictively cringes back, his mind quickly growing clear.

"Well look at here. Looks like we caught a big one here, boys. How much do you lads think we can get for him?"

"Hmm, I think can get three bags of silver coins from Jude's place, Miguel. That's guy a miser but at least he plays fair."

"Now that's a delightful news! To Jude's place we go then."

"Aye."

The men around him laughs raucously and Germany freezes in fear. Where the hell did he get himself into? 

He opens his eyes and is met with the harsh blinding rays of the sun. 

He is on a ship. And looking at the flag of the ship that is merrily swaying with the wind, a pirate's ship.

"Aww, lads, I see that ya'll all having fun there. Care to let me join with ya?" A steady, unhurried footsteps accompanied the harsh grating voice with a very familiar accent.

"C–captain!"

"Now, now. There's no need to be nervous. Tsk. I heard ya' talking 'bout good ole' Jude." The lilting, high–pitched voice lowers and turns threatening. Germany is too afraid to look at the speaker. "Didn't I already warn all of you not not deal with that sun of a gun? We don't deal with slavery. Now let me look at that poor chap before I send him to the bottom of the sea."

The newcomer, the one the frightened men around him called captain, kneels before him, put a gloved hand on his chin before forcing Germany to face him.

Shocked wide blue eyes meet a pair of frightening red orbs and the very familiar stranger's devil–may–care grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I have been having headaches lately because of the heat in my country. I promise that I'll try to write long chapters to make up for my tardiness.
> 
> Kalein and Liam are the human names I chose for New Zealand amd Australia respectively. 
> 
> And so the journey begins! And where did all the nations land? And what will happen to Germany? Who is the first lost nation they will find in this strange world?


End file.
